Stranded
by spatula spatula
Summary: Who's the guy who forgot the notes on next week's debate? That would be Josh. (complete)
1. Pregnant Meteorologists

**Stranded** _by Tahlia_  
dayglo_parker@yahoo.com 

Category: J/D humor  
Spoilers: extremely flimsy S4  
Summary: Who's the guy who forgot the notes on next week's debate? That would be Josh. 

AN: I got the premise from starting to read the S4 spoilers on TWoP and then slapping myself on the wrist and swearing to be spoiler-free. Too bad I couldn't get that first sentence I read out of my mind. 

* * *

**1/6**

"Do you think it's contagious?" 

Donna looked up from the papers on the bed, arranged not very neatly in front of her. Josh was seated on the edge. 

"What?" 

He gestured pathetically towards the television. "That." 

"Meteorologists forecasting the weather, up to a week in advance, are actually a popular trend in local news broadcasts." 

"Not that! The woman." 

Donna glanced at the woman on the television, moving her hand in a circular motion to indicate the tropical depression forming in the Gulf of Mexico. 

"Now I know they're scarce for you, Josh, but I really think you'd still be able to identify one-" 

Donna ducked fast enough to nearly avoid the folder sailing toward her head. "What are you, eight?" 

"Donna," he whined, "I'm serious." 

"So am I." 

"Look at her! She's..." 

"Indicating a low-pressure system?" 

"She's pregnant!" he blurted out. 

Donna shook her head. "Astute observation." 

"She's huge!" Josh continued. "Come on, when she points to North Dakota, you have to admit she practically wipes Texas off the map." 

"And why isn't she working for us?" Donna quipped. 

Josh ignored the remark. "Think about it. How many of these debates have we done?" 

"Three." 

"And in every city, a pregnant meteorologist." 

"Fascinating," Donna replied dryly. "Is there a point to all this?" 

"Doesn't this strike you as just the least bit strange?" 

"Not particularly." 

Earnestly, he offered, "Maybe it's a conspiracy." 

"Maybe," Donna muttered half-heartedly, returning to her filing and sorting. 

It wasn't until she had reread the same line three times did she realized Josh's channel surfing was breaking her concentration. She slammed the papers in her hands down with enough force to bend them slightly. 

"Just pick a channel!" 

Josh looked at her like she had just kicked a tiny, adorable puppy. She sighed and hung her head, to apologize for being harsh. He continued to surf. Donna returned to the report. 

"Why are you here?" she said, looking up a second time. 

"To keep you company." 

Josh flipped off the television and leaned back, flopping out on the bed. His head landed on the corner of a pile of papers, but Donna was too disorganized to notice. 

"Really?" she asked, only half-believing him. 

"Yeah." 

Josh was examining the intricate pattern of the ceiling tiles. 

"Josh?" 

"Donna?" 

"Is that all?" 

He looked to be counting the tiles. 

"There's a chance I may have left the notes for the next week's debate at the debate site this afternoon," he answered calmly. 

"Josh!" For effect, she swatted him on the shoulder with same folder he had thrown at her. 

He sat up again. "Now who's eight years old?" Donna only glared at him, still fuming over his revelation. "Anyway, it's all your fault." 

"My fault? How is your being careless _my_ fault?" 

"You never reminded me to remember them." 

"I thought you had them already!" 

"I thought _you_ had them!" Josh countered. 

"And why exactly would I have the debate notes that, need I remind you, you wouldn't even let me _touch_ on the flight here?" 

"This is different," he feigned. Donna regarded him skeptically "You're my assistant. You're supposed to...you know." 

"Oh, that explains it!" She paused. "What were my last words to you before we left?" 

Josh thought for a moment. "'You're not helping matters, Josh, so stop acting like a pompous jackass?'" 

Donna shook her head with a small laugh. 

"That's not the right answer?" he asked. 

"I asked, 'Do you have everything?' You said yes. My job stops there." 

"You did _not_ ask that!" 

"Yes, I did." 

"No, you didn't." 

Donna sighed. "I will not get into this," and she picked up her report again. 

"Oh, no you don't..." 

"Hey! Give me that back!" 

Josh held the sheet of paper above his head, away from her reach in a sitting position. She tried once to grab it, but failed. 

"We have to deal with this," Josh decided. 

"You forgot them, you deal with it. Now, give me my report back." 

"Those notes are in enemy territory." 

"First of all," she puffed, "those notes probably never left the prep room, which I should remind you only members of our campaign are allowed into-" 

"That's what George McGovern thought!" 

Donna only glared at him for interrupting. "Unless, of course, you consider Bruno or Doug our enemy, which I believe, Joshua, brings up a whole new set of issues." 

"Can we talk about my supposed paranoia later and get back to the issue at hand, which is how you're going to rescue my precious debate notes from the evil hands of the Republicans?" 

"'Supposed?'" Donna asked. Before Josh could open his mouth to reply, she pressed forward. "This is not my problem." 

"Do we have to go over this again?" he remarked with a heavy sigh. 

Before Donna could answer, there was a knock on the door. 

"Come in," they said simultaneously. 

As the door opened, Donna leaned close to Josh and whispered, "This is _my_ room." 

"I could have continued to listen to this fascinating argument in the comfort of my own room," their visitor said, motioning to the wall they shared, "but I thought, as a courtesy to those around me, it would be better if I actually came into the room to yell at you." By now, their visitor was looking pointedly at Josh. 

"Hey, CJ," Donna greeted. 

"Oh, Christ," Josh mumbled as her cradled in face in his hands. 

"Honestly, Joshua, do you lose brain cells by the minute or what?" He looked up, but said nothing in his own defense. "Leo specifically told you to guard those notes with your life!" 

"Donna-" 

"This is _not_ her fault!" CJ said with a note of finality. 

"Thanks," said Donna. 

"Don't mention it," CJ replied. 

Josh was waving his arm fanatically. "Can we skip the female bonding and focus here?" 

CJ glared at Josh, unappreciative of the smart remark. "This," she walked over to the nightstand and placed the telephone on the bed, "is a telephone. Use it." 

"To do what, exactly?" 

Donna swatted his arm as a reminder. 

"I'm not messing around here," CJ said. "I want you to call Louis at the debate site and tell him you left those notes in the prep room, and then I want you to get into that car in the parking lot, drive to the debate site, have Louis place them in your hands, and then I want you to get back into your car-" 

"I," Josh waved his hands to cut her off, "I think I get it." 

"And," CJ continued, "I'm sending Donna with you." 

"What?" Josh and Donna exclaimed together. 

"This is not punishment," CJ said to Donna, though she shot CJ a look that said otherwise. "I just don't trust Josh not to screw this up." 

"I'm sitting right here," he reminded her. 

CJ simply folded her arms across her chest, indicating the discussion was over. 

"Can I ask one small question?" Josh asked meekly. He raised his hand partially. 

CJ inclined her head a little. 

"We're supposed to take off in an hour, and there's no way we can make it back here in time to catch the flight, which reminds me," and he turned to face Donna, "if we're leaving in an hour, why haven't you started packing yet?" 

Donna smiled sweetly. "I'll explain why on the ride there." 

"Well, Josh," CJ said, "it seems you're going to have to catch a later flight. Can I make a suggestion?" 

Josh buried his face in his hands again. "Dear God, what now?" 

"Wait until you actually _have_ the notes _in your hands_ before you make a reservation." 

"Thanks," he muttered as she left. 

TBC 


	2. Freud & the Art of Packing

**Stranded** _by Tahlia_  
dayglo_parker@yahoo.com 

* * *

**(2/6)**

"Dammit!" 

Josh stole a glance at Donna, sitting in the passenger's seat. "Still busy?" 

"Even worse." When he didn't follow with another suggestion, she inclined the display of her cellphone in his direction. "No service!" 

"Think it's the storm?" He punctuated the question by craning his neck at the windshield, trying to see up and through the barrage of raindrops. 

"That, or that we're out in the middle of acres and acres of farm land and there's not a cellphone tower in sight!" She huffed. "I'd say _that_ was a plausible explanation." 

"I said I was sorry." 

"Yes, you did, and I hate to break it to you, but sorry's not going to make that line at the ticket counter go any faster, and sorry's not to make me sleep any better in the airport terminal on those uncomfortable plastic chairs when they inform us the only flight to DC leaves _tomorrow morning_." 

"I'm sure there'll be a flight between now and tomorrow morning." 

"There _was_ a flight, Josh, and it left an hour ago!" 

"Look, we've been through this already and I said-" 

"You're sorry. I know." 

"So why are we still..." He purposely didn't finish. 

"Just drop it, okay?" It may have been a question, but there was no doubt that it was final. 

They drove in silence, with only the sound of rain of the windshield and the wipers to keep them company. It was an unbearable silence. 

"I never unpack," she muttered. 

"Huh?" 

"I said, I never unpack," she repeated, her voice measured so she could control the impending explosion. He looked at her questioningly. "When you asked me earlier why I wasn't packing an hour before we left for our flight, it's because I never _un_pack." 

"Fine," he said, trying not to sound as disinterested as he thought he did. 

"I live out of a suitcase during the campaign." 

"I never noticed." 

Donna cocked her head and looked at Josh with something resembling a smile, though he doubted it was anything but sarcasm. "Why am I not surprised?" 

"Okay, can I have making-fun-of-Josh-in-a-good-way Donna back?" Adding, "Emphasis on the 'fun' and 'good' parts." 

She glared at him. "She had a flight to catch." 

More silence. 

"You _never_ unpack?" Josh offered. 

"Nope." 

"I'm sure Freud would say that's an extension of a deeply rooted fear of commitment." As soon as it left his mouth, Josh wanted to take it back. 

"Oh really?" she replied, sounding as if he had just suggested the sky was yellow. "As opposed to you?" 

"I don't have commitment issues." 

She snorted before replying, "I was talking about your packing skills." 

"Oh." He focused on the road for a moment. "There's nothing wrong with my packing skills either." 

"You call clothes scattered around a hotel room, a skill?" 

"That's not fair! I was late for the debate prep, and the shirt I wanted to wear was at the bottom of my suitcase." Donna eyed him with skepticism. "So I'll admit I was a little hasty-" 

"A little?" 

"Yes." 

"You were still buttoning your shirt when you jumped into the car, Josh. I think that qualifies as something slightly more than 'a little hasty.'" Her eyes sparkled. "Although..." 

"What?" He was afraid of the answer. 

"It _was_ amusing to watch you shaking hands with Louis with your shirt misbuttoned." 

"A-ha!" If he hadn't been driving, Josh would have pointed a finger at Donna accusingly. "You swore you didn't notice and you _lied_!" 

Donna was shaking her head. 

Josh barreled on. "You let me make a fool of myself-" 

"Really, Josh, you don't need my help." 

"-And now you deserve a fitting punishment." 

"You mean this isn't it?" 

Josh looked wounded. "Is being in a car with me _really_ that bad?" As Donna glared at him, he added, "Wait, don't answer that." 

"Josh?" she asked hesitantly. 

"I said not to answer that question." 

"I'm wasn't going to-" 

"Just pretend I never asked it." 

"Fine, but-" 

"Rewind a few seconds." 

"Josh!" she yelled. 

His eyebrows shot up. "What?" 

"Listen," and she made gestures vaguely in the direction of the engine. When they were silent, they could hear it making strange sputtering noises. 

"Oh," his eyes glanced at the odometer, and he noticed they were rapidly loosing speed, "no." He pushed the brakes hard, but saw it made no difference. "No, no, no, no..." 

Using whatever speed they had left, Josh managed to maneuver the vehicle to one side of the road as the engine continued to sputter. Absently, he checked the rearview mirror for oncoming traffic, but they had been alone on the road for the entire trip. Finally, the car came to a slow and rather pathetic stop. 

"Come on," he urged as he turned the ignition key in vain. "Come on!" After several tries, he leaned against the headrest and shut his eyes. "This," he exhaled, "is not my day." 

They sat in silence. As if on cue, the rain began to fall harder. 

"What do we do now?" 

Josh opened his eyes. "Call a tow truck?" As a reminder, she held up her out-of-service cellphone. 

"Right," he sighed. "Well, then, I'm out of ideas." 

"Mr. Resourceful," Donna muttered. 

"Hey! What do you _expect_ me to do?" 

"Open the hood and fix it?" 

"And I'm supposed to know how to do this...how? Do you see me and think, 'Oh, a guy. He can fix a car. No problem?'" 

Instead of glaring at him, Donna wriggled between the seats. In the backseat, she grabbed the small umbrella. Satisfied, she opened the passenger door. 

"What are you doing?" 

Donna glanced outside first before answering. "If you won't help," she stated matter-of-factly, "then I'm going to flag someone down who can." With that, she jumped out of the car and opened the umbrella, slamming the door behind her. 

After a minute, her statement registered in Josh's brain. "Donna, wait!" he yelled, even though he was sure she couldn't hear. 

He jumped out of the car, and slammed the door. Only then did it occur to him he didn't have an umbrella. "Definitely not my day," he muttered. 

Josh spotted her under the umbrella about five feet from the car. Yet in those five feet he managed to get soaked. 

"Don't stand so close," she remarked. "You'll get me all wet." 

"It's a small umbrella, Donna. I can't help it." 

"Just don't get me wet, okay?" 

"Don't cheesy horror movies start out like this?" 

"I ask myself that everyday." 

"I wonder if the rental car company'll give me my money back," he mused. "For giving us a defective car and all." 

Donna, however, was ignoring him. "Look! I see light coming this way." 

"I see it." 

"Maybe it's a car." 

"I said, I see it." 

"Well, he's not going to see you if you don't start waving your arms to get his attention." 

"I may be desperate, but I will _not_ wave my arms in such a fashion." 

"Come on, just wave your arms." 

"I will not." 

"Do you _want_ me to kill you?" 

"Fine." After a moment, "Donna?" 

"Yeah?" 

"How come the light doesn't seem to be slowing down?" 

"It's the rain. It warps your perception. Don't stop waving." 

"Donna?" 

"Yes, Joshua?" 

"He didn't stop." 

"No, he didn't." 

"Ten bucks says he's a Republican." 

Donna sighed. "Now what?" 

"Don't we have a second umbrella?" Josh said, looking back at the car. 

"Yes, but..." Donna hesitated. "It's in my suitcase." 

Josh, however, was oblivious. "So? I'll just get it out of the trunk." When he saw the look on her face, he asked, "What?" 

"My suitcase isn't, uh, isn't in the trunk." 

"Where is it, then?" 

She bounced nervously. Meekly, "_Air Force One_?" When Josh eyed her skeptically, she sighed. "CJ took it back for me." 

"I should have known!" Josh replied. "The Sisterhood strikes again." 

This remark did not earn much else from Donna other than a small glare. "Need I remind you who's holding this umbrella?" 

"And you're doing a fantastic job," he muttered as he examined his sleeve, which didn't seem to fit underneath the umbrella's cover. 

"We can't stand here all day." 

"I know. If only we could make the rain stop, we could use the cellphone." 

Her eyes were wide with sarcasm. "If only." 

"And I'm sure you have a better idea?" 

In the distance, she glanced toward a formation of lights resembling a building. "A house?" Josh asked. 

"Aren't you clever." 

He sighed, knowing full-well they couldn't stay here and wait out the storm. "Onward, ho," he muttered halfheartedly. 

And even if he didn't mean it the way it sounded, it still earned Josh a swat in the arm from Donna. 

TBC 


	3. It's Raining Republicans

**Stranded** _by Tahlia_  
dayglo_parker@yahoo.com 

* * *

**(3/6)**

Donna glanced at Josh, several paces behind her on account of the soggy piece of luggage slung over his shoulder, and found him holding something over his head. She stopped dead. 

"Josh?" 

"Yeah?" He stopped, too. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm," he glanced at the item held over his head, "I'm trying my best to keep my head dry." She looked at him incomprehensibly. Josh became defensive. "Hey, I'm not the one who let go of the umbrella." 

"There was a gust of wind!" 

"I'm sure." 

"I stepped in a puddle and lost my footing for a moment, and it just kind of...slipped out my hand-" She stopped when she noticed he looked amused. "You know what? I don't have to justify my actions to anyone, let alone to _you_." 

"Oh, you don't, do you?" 

"No. I don't." 

"And why is that, Ms. Moss?" 

"Because," she replied, "all of this is your fault." She turned around and began walking again. 

Donna heard him sigh dramatically and mutter, "Are we going to have to get into this _again_?" She chose to ignore him. 

Their silence was filled with the sound of the rain pouring around them and their feet squishing in the wet grass and mud. Occasionally, Josh slowed to allow himself to adjust the bulky bag on his shoulder, but he noticed Donna wasn't slowing up on his account. That is, until he looked up and found her standing completely still. 

"What?" 

Her eyes were saucers. "Please tell me those aren't the debate notes. Just- please." 

"What-" He stopped when he realized what she was talking about. He bought it from above his head. "_USA Today_." He tried not to chuckle at a soggy picture of Ritchie, shaking hands with constituents as the ink of his forehead ran in the rain. 

"Good," she exhaled. 

His eyes drifted over her shoulder. "We're here!" 

"Please, Josh, try not to wake up the neighbors." 

"Who would hear me," he looked straight up into the sky and shouted, "over this God-forsaken rain?" 

"That's the spirit." 

"Did you know it was going to be raining this hard?" 

Donna had reached the gate lining the property. "_I_ wasn't the one so fascinated by the weather report." 

"Only by her," he defended, "but I didn't see this coming." 

Her eyebrows shot up. "Because storms of this magnitude just magically appear on radar?" 

"She was freakishly big! She-" 

"-Obstructed your view of Texas, yes. Josh," she sighed and decided against the remark. Instead, she suggested, "Think we should go in, instead of, you know, standing out here and getting more wet?" 

"'More wet.' I'm not sure that's possible. Grammatically or physically." 

"Josh!" 

"Right," he said, realizing she wanted to get somewhere dry quick. He reached to open the gate, then stopped. "Donna?" he asked hesitantly. 

"What?" She muttered something else Josh couldn't hear over the rain 

"Take a look at this." 

"'Berryman for US Senate,'" she read aloud. "Doesn't ring a bell. Now, can we go in?" He didn't answer her, only looked up at her with a telling look. Donna shook her head. "Oh no, you don't." 

"What?" he asked innocently. 

"You're," she gestured emphatically at him, "you're finding an excuse not to go in!" 

"I am not." 

"Yes, you are!" 

He eyed here with amusement. "Reverting to an eight-year-old again?" 

"Josh!" He sensed Donna was more than just annoyed at his snarky comment. 

"I'm just saying that's he-" 

"No," she snapped. "Don't...don't say it." 

"But it's true-" 

"It's raining, Josh," Donna interrupted, not at all pleased with him, "it's _pouring rain_. Despite the fact that it's August, I'm _freezing_. This blouse is, no doubt, ruined, and my luggage is halfway across the country right now, which, might I remind you, is where we should be, too. I'm about this close to wringing your neck, and you're concerned because the one house within a forty mile radius is inhabited by _Republicans_?" By the end, she was almost shrieking. 

Josh wanted to point out that there seemed to be another house nearby, not forty miles away like she had insinuated, or that he had valid concerns about the Democratic Deputy Chief of Staff occupying the same room as a family full of Republicans, but, at the moment, he was sure he valued his life slightly more than proving Donna wrong. Not that he didn't enjoy proving her wrong--he did. But he didn't doubt Donna's threat of physical violence, either. 

"Fine," he acquiesced. 

"'Fine?'" She seemed uneasy. 

"Yeah. That," he stumbled, "that _is_ what you wanted, right?" 

Donna nodded her head slowly, evidently waiting for the other shoe to drop, like him insisting that she wasn't exactly untouched when it came to blame. Josh remembered the umbrella flying away, suddenly became more aware of the skin on his neck, and decided he wasn't going to go anywhere near that issue. 

"Let's go, then," he said, gesturing toward the porch. Donna muttered an agreement, and he opened the gate. 

Grateful to be under the protection of the porch, Josh took a deep breath and knocked on the door. As they both heard the sound of footsteps scurrying on the other side, Donna leaned in close and whispered, "Be nice." 

"Oh, cut it out." 

"I'm just saying..." Her response was cut off by the lock of the door opening and a face appearing in the crack of the open door. 

Josh would have described her as well fed if he were given the chance, and Donna would have elbowed him in the side for it. Nevertheless, she seemed nice, though--understandably--a tad puzzled as she examined their rain-soaked appearances. 

"Can I, uh, help you?" 

Josh opened his mouth, but Donna was quick. "Actually, yes." She didn't miss the look Josh gave her, either. "Our car broke down on the interstate, and we were wondering if we might be able to use your phone to call a tow truck." 

The woman stared at them, as if they were speaking Greek, but only for a second. The corners of her mouth perked up. "You hiked all the way up here?" 

"Yeah," Josh agreed. "Not my idea." Donna rolled her eyes. 

The woman seemed to be ignoring Josh, much to Donna's delight. She did, however, sober up somewhat and looked pointedly at Donna. "Pardon me if I come off sounding a bit rude," she said, and for the first time, Donna noticed a familiar Midwestern accent, "but I watch the news every night and they're always blabbering on and on about home invasions and the like, and how those guys make up stories about broken-down cars and gas leaks so they get into the house and tie everyone up." Josh tried not to snort in amusement at the woman's story, though he doubted she would have noticed. 

"So, I guess my point is, miss," and she was speaking only to Donna by now, "how am I supposed to know that you are who you really say you are?" 

Donna knew if she didn't answer quickly, Josh would manage to assert his identity and insult the woman's political affiliation in five minutes flat. She reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out her wallet. 

"Donna Moss," She held up her driver's license picture (and was careful to obstruct her White House ID card), and opened her jacket to reveal the campaign badge (also with her name and ID picture) still attached to her shirt from the debate. For the moment, she praised the coordinators for making both parties wear the same one. "This is Josh," deliberately _not_ offering his last name or job title, "He's my boss." 

"That's me," Josh added. There were times when being the Deputy Chief of Staff just didn't have its upsides; this was one of them. 

The woman leaned in to scrutinize Donna's badge. "You work on the campaign?" It wasn't disparaging; it was amazement. 

"Yeah." It was the unspoken decision that _which_ campaign they worked for would not come up. 

The woman leaned back with a smile on her face, and leaned into her home. "Harold!" she shouted. "Come 'ere for a second!" 

After a moment, a rather menacing-looking individual--no doubt the woman's husband--came stomping in from what Josh guessed was the living room. He hated to imagine what would happen if Harold discovered two Democrats standing on his front porch. 

"What are you clamoring about, Shelly?" When he caught sight of them on the front porch, his eyebrows shot up. "God, you two look like a couple of drowned rodents." 

"Harold," his wife hissed. "I'll have you know these two hiked all the way up from the interstate because their car broke down." When her husband failed to be impressed by this accomplishment, she sweetened the pot. "They're workin' on the campaign." 

Donna smiled sweetly. Josh swore he saw Shelly's eyes sparkling when she spoke. 

"Really?" Harold suddenly seemed to soften, if such a feat were possible with such a large man. "I had that debate on during the commercials of my baseball game. You were in that?" 

"We work behind the scenes, sir," Donna answered, afraid Josh's answer might include a comment about his viewing preferences. "Just making sure everything worked properly." 

Shelly looked at her husband. "I thought I might invite 'em in, let 'em dry off for a bit and use the telephone," she said, in a voice Donna recognized, one that meant there was no room for argument. "How does that sound, honey?" 

Harold agreed and before long Josh and Donna had been ushered into a room--mostly likely, Harold's den--where they were instructed that a telephone would be available. Josh went in first, leaving Donna behind to confer for a moment with their benefactors, whom Donna politely learned were Harold and Michelle Harrison. 

"Josh?" she asked hesitantly upon entering. 

"Yeah?" 

She couldn't tear her eyes off it. "Is that...what I think it is?" 

"A moose. Or rather, the head of a moose." 

"Mounted on the wall." 

"Yes." Josh added dryly, "I guess there's no accounting for taste." 

Donna was studying all the various animals stuffed and mounted in Harold's personal collection. "Is this about the debate?" 

"The man was watching in between _commercials_!" 

"Keep your voice down." 

Josh was shaking his head. "People like that shouldn't be allowed to vote." 

Her eyebrows shot up. "Those debates are aimed at _un_decided voters, Josh. Maybe he's already made up his mind..." Her voice trailed off. 

"Think he'll be voting for Bartlet?" Josh quipped. Donna didn't answer. "What?" 

"Josh," she warned, "did you see this?" 

"See what-" His eyes fixed on what she was looking at. "Oh, my God. Those are-" 

"-Deer hooves," she nodded her head, "holding a-" 

"-_Rifle_." 

Donna's eyes were like saucers. Josh couldn't help but bury his head in his hands and mutter, "Christ." 

TBC 

**Note:** If you ever visit the Clear View Mountain Lodge (I believe that's the name) in Lenix, MA (outside of Tanglewood), you, too, can witness a pair of deer hooves holding a rifle. 


	4. A Messy Situation

**Stranded** _by Tahlia_  
dayglo_parker@yahoo.com 

* * *

**(4/6)**

"If you're going to laugh at me, then maybe you should just talk to Donna." 

CJ chuckled. "Republicans?" 

"Yes," Josh groaned. 

He imagined she was shaking her head with a smile. "I'd let you in on all the different ways you're going to piss these people off and create a public relations nightmare," CJ mused, "and how many ways to Sunday I'm going to kick your ass because of it, but I'm far too amused at the moment." 

"Are my diplomatic abilities _so_ lowly regarded in your mind that you would automatically jump to the conclusion that I'm going to insult their political affiliation?" 

"Oh, Joshua," she chuckled. "Yes." 

"Ye, of little faith." 

"I'm being pragmatic," she amended, "I'm experienced with your behavior." 

"Or jaded..." 

"Observant," she offered, "practical, keen, astute-" 

"-Assumptive, cynical..." 

No doubt her eyebrows were raised. "Cynical? Perhaps you have me confused with someone else?" CJ covered the speaker with her hand, but Josh could still hear her muffled comment. "Toby! Josh is stranded in the middle of nowhere with a house full of Republicans." 

Toby mumbled something in response Josh couldn't make out. 

"He sends his regards," CJ commented. 

"I'm sure." 

"Let's be serious for a moment," CJ resolved. "Did you get the debate notes?" 

"I did. You should read what Louis wrote to me in the margins. We might want to reconsider his employment status." 

"I'll be sure to look into that." 

Josh cocked his head. "See, Claudia, you say that, but I know you couldn't care less." 

"Do you think if I yelled loud enough, Donna would hear me telling her to slap you?" 

"Don't encourage her." Josh cast a glance at Donna, sitting in a chair opposite him, her arms folded tightly across her chest. 

"I have no doubt you deserved anything she might have done to you." Before Josh could edge in a response, CJ pressed on. "What about the airport?" 

Josh sighed. "Who would've known the rain would cancel all the flights to Washington?" 

"And you could't just find a connecting flight?" 

"We would," he whined, "if the only road to the airport wasn't completely flooded." Josh paused. "Are you laughing at me, CJ?" 

"No," she lied. "I'm laughing at fate." 

"Right." 

"Think about all the things that had to happen to get you to where you are." Josh imagined CJ propping her feet up on her desk. "Though I would say you being stupid was first on that list." 

"Does _anyone_ have _any_ regard for _my_ welfare here?" Josh yelled. He turned and saw Donna shaking her head. He sighed with defeat. 

"Pipe down, Josh," CJ reprimanded, "you wouldn't want to wake up the farmer and his wife." Josh thought she might be giggling. "Are they going to make you milk the cows to earn your keep?" 

"You're hilarious, CJ." 

"Organize their gun cabinet, maybe?" 

"I'm going to hang up the phone now." 

"Pick out the perfect chicken from suppertime?" 

"Goodbye." 

"Take the pigs out to the sty?" 

"Goodbye," Josh repeated. 

"Hey! Don't you hang up on me, Joshua Lyman, or I-" 

Josh didn't hear the rest because he'd hung up the phone. He saw Donna's amused look. "I suppose you found that entertaining?" 

"Quite," she admitted. "Was that her threatening you not to hang up?" 

"It was." Josh looked guiltily at the receiver. "I'll admit I wasn't thinking of the consequences at the time." He looked at Donna pointedly, but she was silent. "What, no witty response?" 

She shook her head. "I'm not even going to touch it." 

Josh shrugged, then noticed her change of clothes. "I thought you forgot your suitcase." 

Donna gave him her 'doornails are smarter than you' look. "Mrs. Henderson lent me some dry clothes." Off Josh's raised eyebrows, she added, "They have a daughter in college." 

"Good, because I was going to say that Mrs. Henderson seemed a bit-" 

The door to the study slid open before Josh could finish. 

"I bet you kids are dying for something to eat," she suggested. 

Donna smile sweetly. "That would be wonderful." Shelly nodded and quickly disappeared. 

"That would be wonderful," Josh repeated in a sugary voice. 

"Don't mock me." 

"Look out, Donna, I think there's this little bit of brown stuck to the tip of your- Ow!" Donna swatted his arm. 

"That was from CJ," she added for posterity. 

* 

"I hope you don't mind," Shelley apologized again, "I just ran this stuff through the microwave." She placed a glass plate and pulled back the plastic wrapping, revealing something Donna guessed was lasagna. 

"Really, Mrs. Henderson-" 

She looked up at Josh. "You can call me Shelly," she said in what Donna could only describe as a vaguely pathetic seductive tone. She tried to hide the small giggle. 

"Michelle," her husband warned, not missing a beat. 

Josh glanced at Donna, and felt suddenly very uncomfortable. 

Harold sat at the head of the long rectangular dining room table; Shelly was to his right, and Josh and Donna occupied the seats on his left. Josh's fingers fiddled with his napkin, and he was unable to bring his gaze up to meet either of the Hendersons. 

Donna cleared her throat. "So-" 

Before she could get another word out, she was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and footsteps in the foyer. 

"Nathan!" Harold yelled. Donna looked over and saw Josh wincing. 

Second later, a teenage boy came shuffling into the dining room. A backpack was slung over his shoulder and he was holding a dripping umbrella in his hand, though inspection of his soaked clothing suggested he hadn't much more luck with the object than Donna and Josh. 

Already he was rolling his eyes. "What?" he groaned. 

Harold narrowed his eyes. "Is that any way to greet your mother and I?" 

Nathan muttered something Donna couldn't make out, though she suspected the small grin on Josh's face indicated that he had. 

"Nathan," Shelly said sweetly, "don't mumble. It's not very polite." Donna supposed she was expecting a grateful smile, but all her son did was glare in her direction. 

Harold, however, was moving full speed ahead. "Mind tell me where the hell you've been all day, young man?" he boomed. "You were supposed to be home four _hours_ ago!" 

"Out?" He shrugged at the suggestion. 

"'Out?'" Harold raged. Oops, Donna thought, wrong answer. "That's all you can say -- 'out'?" 

"Harold," Shelly whispered. He waved her off, uninterested. 

Nathan, however, was unfazed. "I lost track of time, though I'm surprised you noticed." 

Harold thought for a moment. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" 

"Never mind." Nathan shook his head, turned on his heels, and started to retreat. 

"Oh, no you don't," his father stopped him. "You're not going anywhere, young man." 

Nathan shot his father a look Donna recognized, since she'd given it Josh quite a few times. It was the look of 'I've got better things to do.' 

"And I don't need this attitude of yours, either," Harold amended. "You're going to sit down next to your mother and you're going to eat." 

"I already ate." It didn't seem to matter, however. 

Nathan dropped his backpack near the wall and dragged his feet all the way to the seat next to his mother. He glanced at the leftover lasagna in much the same way Donna had. Finally, he glanced up and looked Josh straight in the eye, evidently noticing the two guests for the first time. 

"Who the hell are you?" 

Josh's mouth hung open for a second at his lack of tact, but Harold took the opportunity for an introduction before Josh could say anything else. 

"Josh, Donna." He indicated them with a small gesture of his hand. "Their car broke down. They're staying the night." The implied suggestion was that Nathan be on his best behavior, something frightening similar to Donna's warning to Josh. 

"Hi," they both acknowledged. 

Nathan's eyebrows shot up. "We're in the habit of letting strangers stay here now? Was I gone that long?" 

Shelly smiled. "They work for Governor Ritchie, Nathan." As if that was supposed to make them more credible. 

Nathan looked Josh straight in the eye, and Donna noticed the faintest glimmering of... something. She wasn't sure what. "On the campaign?" 

"That's right," Josh replied. 

"I'm sorry," he apologized, and the glimmer was gone. 

Harold breathed a sigh of relief. "See? That wasn't so hard-" 

"I meant about working for Ritchie. That's got to suck." Josh tried to hide his amusement and pretended to be offended by the remark. Donna wasn't sure he was very convincing. 

"Nathan," Shelly chided, trying to pre-empt her husband's potential explosion. 

"The Governor is a good and honest man," Harold said, and Donna had to admit the table seemed surprised at how calm his voice sounded. "Which is more than I can say about President Bartlet." She wondered how many times this family'd had _that_ discussion. 

Judging from Nathan's small but exaggerated sigh, quite often. 

"Eat up," Shelly commanded when the conversation ceased and the silence was somewhat awkward. 

"So," Nathan speared a portion of cut lasagna and looked up at Josh, "how'd you deal with what Bartlet said a few months ago?" 

"The open mic?" Nathan nodded and Josh dismissed Donna's whispered warning. "That wasn't really my department." 

"But you're part of the campaign. Surely you had an opinion," Nathan baited. 

"I did." Donna thanked God wasn't more eloquent. 

"So what did you think?" 

Josh looked at Donna momentarily, smiling. She tried, in vain, to psychically send him the image of CJ kicking his ass. It didn't work. 

"Everyone understands the President said something he shouldn't have, and that we all do it from time to time." 

Donna got the subtle jibe, and tried not to laugh as she imagined Josh's reaction when the President told his senior staff about Ritchie's reaction to Agent Donovan's death. 

Harold cocked head to one side. "That the party line?" He seemed disappointed. 

"Yeah." He held up his hands in mock defense. "It's not my job to write these things." 

Shelly smiled. "Well, what is your job?" 

"Yeah," Donna jumped in, "what _do_ you do?" 

Everyone laughed, thinking it was a joke. 

"I'm a," he paused for a moment to glare at Donna for putting him on the spot, "a political... strategist." 

"And what exactly does that entail?" This, from Shelly, and Donna couldn't miss the way the woman batted her eyelashes at Josh. Then again, neither did her husband. 

"Strategizing." 

Everyone chuckled at Josh's joke, Shelly maybe a little too much. The conversation ceased, and for the time, Josh was sure the questions about his fictional standing in the Ritchie campaign had been dropped. He breathed a sigh of relief as Harold wandered into the topic of baseball. 

"Have you ever been on television?" Nathan asked suddenly. 

"Uh," Josh looked to Donna for support, "yeah, sure. Maybe a couple times." 

"Reporters sometimes catch us staffers in the background," Donna offered, knowing immediately where Nathan was heading 

"Okay." He raised his fork to eat, and then stopped. "Are you _sure_?" 

"Nathan," Harold scolded, "the man said no. I think he'd know if he'd been on TV before." 

"I'm just saying, he looks like someone I've seen before." 

"You probably saw him in some story about the Governor," Harold suggested, not be reckoned with. "I don't see why you've got to hound the man like this-" 

"No, no. It's okay," Josh assured him. Off Harold's strange look, "Really, it is." 

"It's just- you look like someone on CNN or something." 

Josh was ignoring Donna's pained expression when he opened his mouth and smiled. "I get that a lot, you know..." 

* 

"Josh, would you stop that?" 

"Stop, what?" He stopped moving. 

"That," she pointed to the bag slung over his shoulder, "swinging that thing into me when you walk. It's still wet, you know." 

"Don't walk so close to me then." 

"I'm afraid you'll do something stupid, like open the wrong door or wandered into a linen cloest, if I'm farther than three feet from you." 

"Hey! I handled myself pretty well downstairs, if I do say so myself, with very little help from _you_." 

"'What does a political strategist do?' 'Strategize.'" Donna was careful to imitate Shelly's fawning over Josh in her impression. "Really, Josh, that's rocket science." 

"Do I detect a hint of jealously, Ms. Moss?" 

"It's the last door on the right." 

Josh grinned and turned on his heels. "Someone's avoiding the question..." 

"There's a difference between avoidance and dismissing an outrageous question. I'm doing the latter." 

"Of course you are." 

"You don't believe me?" 

"Nope." Josh stopped at the closed door at the end of the hallway. "Are you sure this is it?" 

"Positive." 

He reached for the doorknob and stopped abruptly. "Can I just say one thing?" 

"'I'm sorry, Donna, for dragging you along with me, making you hike in the rain, almost making a fool of myself in front of Republicans, and thinking that you're jealous of a woman with two kids?'" 

"No." Josh looked amused. "Though, in my defense, it was _your_ idea to walk up here and that was CJ who ordered you to come, not me." 

"Josh!" 

"Right." 

"Well?" 

"I've got dibs on the bottom bunk. Don't-" he wagged his finger at her, "don't start with the eight-years-old-thing again." 

"You're expecting _bunk beds_?" 

"Yeah." Josh sounded wounded. "She only gave us one room, so I assumed- bunk beds, yes." 

"And I'm sure those beds are _side-by-side_, on the floor" Donna amended. 

"But, still-" 

"Josh." 

Donna needed only to glance at the doorknob before Josh took the hint. He swung open the door. 

"Wow," Josh said. 

"Yeah." 

"Is that-" 

"Uh-huh." 

"That's, that's- help me out here." 

"I think there seems to be some kind of misunderstanding." 

"Gee, you think so?" Josh sighed. "Look at it this way, at least it's not another deer mounted on the wall." 

"And yet, I am not relieved." 

Shelly appeared behind them. "Is something the matter?" Donna couldn't come up with anything to say; neither could Josh. "I apologize for the way my daughter left her room. It's a bit messy, I know." 

"I," Josh stared into the room, "I hadn't really noticed the mess." 

He had been too busy contemplating the singular bed. The _tiny_ singular bed. 

TBC 


	5. The Dirty Game of Politics

**Stranded** _by Tahlia_  
dayglo_parker@yahoo.com 

* * *

**(5/6)**

"Mrs. Henderson-" Donna stopped. 

"Yes?" 

Shelly was looking expectantly at Donna, oblivious, and Donna was at a loss for words. Hastily, she cleared her throat, hoping to catch Josh's attention. He, however, was still overcome by the sight of the room. 

"Never mind." 

She managed to wriggle her way into the room, groaning for a moment when she brushed against Josh's wet suitcase. 

"This seems quite-" here she cleared her throat again, "-cozy." Again, Josh ignored her. 

Shelly was smiling. "Good. It's not too cramped?" 

Donna was clearing her throat for a third time, louder and (hopefully) more obvious to Josh. He did acknowledge her, though his skeptical expression seemed to mimic the one Shelly wore. 

"Not at all," Donna managed. Her voice was scratchy and raw from all the times she'd cleared her throat. 

"Donna." Shelly sounded very concerned. "Are you all right?" 

Thinking she was caught, Donna's eyes widened as she tried to come up with a good answer...quickly. Remember to breathe, she told herself, and remain perfectly calm. Looking at Josh, still slightly blindsided, offered no emotional support, though she did file away the memory to rib him about it when they got back... 

And then suddenly, it all clicked. 

"Actually, I've been feeling kind of...congested." She coughed once for posterity. 

Josh was oblivious. "You _have_?" 

"I have," she baited, trying to pass him a hint. 

"Oh." It dawned on him. "Oh!" Josh turned to Shelly. "She was coughing and sneezing the whole way up here." 

"She was?" 

"Yeah," replied Donna. 

"Oh," Shelly seemed surprised, and Donna thought she had seen through the ruse, "well, then, would you like a glass of water?" 

"No," she answered quickly. 

"No?" 

"No." Donna glared at Josh. 

"What Donna's trying to say is," Josh paused, evidently not sure what Donna _was_ trying to say, "is that she- I mean, I- I have a very sensitive system, Mrs. Henderson." The idea occurred to him after the fact. 

"A...sensitive system?" Shelly asked hesitantly. 

"Yeah." Josh tried to look sheepish. "A very, _very_ sensitive immune system." 

Shelly was nodding without a word. 

"So, you see," he glanced at Donna, "if Donna were to...pass her congestion onto me, even in the slightest, I'd be sick for _months_." 

Donna tried not to roll her eyes at the exaggeration. 

As a last-ditch effort, Josh added, "And when I get sick, I mean I get _really_ sick." Off Donna's look, he decided to skip the imagery. "Needless to say, I wouldn't be in any condition to actively contribute to the campaign." 

The thought seemed to disturb Shelly. 

"Oh my! Well," she turned to Donna, "we can't let _that_ happen." 

"No, of course not," Donna replied, sarcasm not far from her voice. 

"We're going to need to find you someplace else to sleep, then." Donna was sighing with relief as Shelly made for the door. "I don't think my son would mind sleeping on the couch for a night-" 

"I can sleep on the couch," Donna offered. 

"Or I could," Josh countered. Off Donna's startled look, "I always get the bigger bed anyway." 

Shelly was shaking her head. "If you insist." She looked at them both. "So, who's staying?" 

"I am," Josh and Donna said simultaneously. 

"Josh-" 

"Donna-" 

"I don't mind." 

"Neither do I." 

"Look," Shelly interjected, "the couch is in the den down the hall, second door on the right before the stairs. Why don't I leave you two here to decide this while I go find some sheets and a pillow?" 

She could hear them arguing as she retreated down the hall to the linen closet. 

"I really don't mind..." 

* 

"So, you got kicked out?" 

Donna spun around, glass still in hand. "Nathan." 

"That's me." He was leaning nonchalantly against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed against his chest. 

"You startled me." 

"I noticed. Sorry. So-" 

"I wasn't kicked out." Donna opened the freezer to retrieve an ice cube. "I left on my own." 

"Because you're sick." 

Donna cleared her throat. "Because I'm sick." 

"And Josh will get sick, too." 

"Right." 

"Except..." Nathan trailed off, and reached for an apple. 

"What?" she asked suspiciously. 

"Except," he took a bite of the apple and spoke with his mouth full, "you're not really sick." 

Donna tried not to be blindsided with the revelation. "What?" 

"You heard me; you're not really sick." 

"I'm not?" 

"Nope." 

"But I am." 

"Really?" 

"Yes." 

Nathan took another bite. "Okay." 

Trying to pretend that she hadn't been found out, Donna placed the empty glass under the sink faucet. "Don't," Nathan called out. "Don't drink that. Use the pitcher in the refrigerator." 

"Thanks. The tap water here is that bad, too?" She tried to sound like she was making simple conversation. 

"Yeah. You get used to it, though. You buy a Brita." 

Donna smiled. "Same here." 

"Where is here?" 

"Washington," she said without hesitation. 

"DC?" Donna nodded. "Interesting." 

"Why?" she smiled. 

"No reason." Donna accepted this, but Nathan continued. "I just thought Ritchie's campaign headquarters would be some place in Florida, that's all." 

_Good point. Why hadn't they thought of that?_

"It is," she managed. "But he's got people in Washington, too." 

"People like you?" 

"People like us." 

Nathan was nodding and Donna was satisfied the kid's attempts to poke holes in their story was thwarted. 

With her back turned, he asked, "Do you think I'm that naive?" 

Donna turned around slowly. "Of course not." She said sweetly, "I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that-" 

"You _don't_ work for Governor Ritchie, so would you please stop pretending that you do?" 

Donna might have pointed out Nathan's utter lack of respect for those older than him, if she hadn't noticed how well it seemed to work with his parents. 

He was shaking his head. "You know what's even funnier?" Nathan smiled. "You're not even Republicans." 

"We're not?" 

Donna secretly wished for spontaneous human combustion. 

"That guy upstairs," he motioned upwards, "that's Josh _Lyman_. I recognized him because he's the President's Deputy Chief of Staff and he got shot two years ago." 

After a pause, "How did you-" 

Nathan was tapping his skull. "I'm smarter than you think, Ms. Moss, and I've got a good memory for faces. That," he smirked, "and there's this photo of him and a couple of Senators at a state function on the White House website." 

Donna said nothing. 

"Well? You're not going to own up to any of this?" 

Donna sighed. "They were staffers to the Italian attaché, not a couple of Senators." 

"Whatever," he waived. "So you're admitting you lied?" He stared at Donna. "I'll take your silence to mean 'yes.'" 

Donna opened her mouth to answer. 

"Lied about what?" 

He was standing where Nathan had been seconds ago, in the doorway to the kitchen. 

"Josh," Donna said, relieved. 

"Donna? What's going on?" 

Nathan looked smug. "We were just discussing you, Mr. Lyman." 

The name caught Josh by surprise and when he looked at Donna, she was nodding at his unasked question. 'We've been found out.' 

"Oh." He sighed. "I see." 

"And I was just about to mention to your assistant," he glanced at Donna, "if that's who you really are," Donna narrowed her eyes, "the vast spectrum of reactions my Republican parents could have when they find out they've got two top-ranking Democrats from the Bartlet administration in their house." 

Donna recognized the glimmer in Nathan's eye as he looked at Josh. 

"Nathan," Josh began slowly, "I think there's another way to resolve this-" 

"I have to ask: Why?" 

"Why, what? 'Why should there be another way?'" 

"Why lie and say you work for Ritchie?" 

"Actually," Josh exchanged looks with Donna and ignored her pointed warning, as he had taken to doing, "we didn't lie." 

Nathan was incredulous. "You told my parents you worked for Governor Ritchie!" 

"No, what we told your parents was that we worked for _a_ campaign. _They_ just jumped to the _conclusion_ it was for Ritchie." He sighed. "Call it an omission." 

"But... at dinner..." Nathan was sputtering, "what you said about the President's remark-" 

"-Was exactly what the Governor's campaign has stated officially." Josh cocked his head at Nathan's odd look. "What you're thinking of are all the _un_official comments made by various Ritchie staffers." 

"Oh, come on," he spat. "That's ridiculous." 

"It's politics." 

"It's your attempt at a pathetic excuse." 

Josh stepped closer. "Nathan, I think you should reconsider those words." 

Nathan shot Josh the look he'd given his parents earlier at dinner. "Oh, really? And why's that?" 

"Because," he replied calmly, "as you've already discovered, I'm the Deputy Chief of Staff to the President of the United States. What you aren't aware of, however, is the amount of power vested in that position and how easily I'm able to use it." 

Josh seemed to tower over the fifteen-year-old, intimidating. Donna swore she could see Nathan shaking. 

"Tell me, Nathan, are you interested in politics?" 

The non sequitur caught him by surprise. "Huh?" 

"You know, politics, legislation, that sort of thing." 

He narrowed his eyes, trying to find the hidden meaning behind Josh's words. "Yeah, I guess." 

With a glance at Donna, Josh smiled. "Do you know what Presidential Classroom is?" 

He shook his head, knowing exactly where Josh was going. "It's too expensive -- my parents said it was that or college." 

"They offer scholarships, you know." 

"Those things are based on your academic record, and if you haven't gathered it already, I'm not exactly the most diligent student," he quipped. 

Josh reached into his back pocket and pulled a business card from his wallet. "The next time your teacher passes around a sign-up sheet, I want to put your name down anyway." Nathan started to protest, but Josh cut him off. "Then I want you to come home and call the number on this card, and tell the switchboard operator you want to speak with me. When you talk to my assistant, leave the name of your school, your teacher's name, and a number where I can reach her. I'll take care of the rest." 

"This is for real?" Nathan took the card from Josh. "You'd do a favor like that for me?" 

"Give a little, get a little," Josh replied. Nathan didn't miss the not-so-subtle hint. 

When he finally retreated from the kitchen, Josh turned to Donna looking triumphant. Her head was cocked to one side and her arms were folded against her chest. 

"Try to look a little grateful, Donna." 

"Josh-" 

"Admit it, I handled the situation pretty well..." 

"Josh, you _bribed_ and _threatened_ him!" 

"I did," he replied, not ashamed. "Oh, come on, Donna, the kid was going to _blackmail_ us. I did him a favor." 

"A favor? He's fifteen, Josh, and he acted like it. But you, you're..." 

He smiled wryly. "I'm, what?" 

"Not fifteen." She sighed when he only smiled. "Why do I bother?" she muttered. 

"Because you love me?" 

Dryly, she replied, "That's right, how could I forget?" 

"I'm going to sleep," he announced, when they were finally silent. 

"Me, too." 

"See you tomorrow morning, top-ranking Bartlet official." 

"I can't wait," she quipped. He smiled. 

"All right." 

He was still standing in front of her. "Good night, Josh," she urged. 

"Good night." Halfway to the door, he turned, "I'll be upstairs if you need anything." 

"I'll be fine." 

"I'm just saying-" 

"Thanks, Dad." 

"G'night." 

"'Night." 

Donna thought she was alone in the kitchen when he popped his head back in again. "Donna?" 

"What?" she groaned. 

Tenderly, "I- I'm sorry. For everything." 

When he disappeared again, Donna thought, with a smile, that for the first time all day he really was sorry. 

TBC 


	6. Deductive Reasoning

**Stranded** _by Tahlia_  
dayglo_parker@yahoo.com 

* * *

**(6/6)**

"There you are!" 

"Good morning to you, too, Josh." 

"You weren't in your room." 

"I slept fine, thank you." 

"You're wel-" Josh paused. "You did?" 

Donna nodded curtly, and Josh's eyebrows shot up. "What?" she asked suspiciously. 

"It was a leather couch." 

Donna rolled her eyes. "Really?" 

"I'm just saying, it doesn't seem very comfortable." 

"It wasn't." 

Josh stared at Donna. "Okay, now I'm confused. You said-" 

"I slept fine." Josh's expression was blank. "Okay, when I said I slept fine, I may have been comparing it to the alternative." 

"The alternative?" 

"Yes." 

"Which was?" 

Donna shot him the 'you've got to be kidding me' look. "You, me, a twin-sized bed. In particular, you stealing the covers." 

"I'm only going to agree with half of that statement." 

"Only half?" 

"Seeing as how part of it is blatantly false..." 

"Okay, so maybe it was a double bed-" 

"Hey!" 

Donna laughed. "Oh, Josh, come on, you should have seen that one coming." 

"Back to my original question," Josh said with a glare. 

"There was an original question?" 

"Yes, there was." 

"A blanket statement about my whereabouts, this much I remember." 

"You weren't in your room." 

"I was not," Donna agreed. 

Josh sighed. "Glad to know we have _some_ common ground. So, now, my question is-" 

"Where was I?" 

"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" 

"On the phone." 

"You were on the phone?" 

Donna rolled her eyes. "You expected me to _walk_ to the airport and book us a flight?" 

"What time?" 

"Huh?" 

"What time is the flight?" 

"10:30, departing from gate," she glanced at the slip of paper in her hand, "B4. Also, I took the liberty of calling a cab company to drive us there." 

"Donna, we're like sixty miles from the airport." 

"Forty-five, actually. What's your point?" 

"How much is all of this going to cost?" 

Donna smiled. "Don't worry about it." 

"Donna-" 

"Everything's taken care of, Josh." 

"Donna-" 

"It's not like I _bribed_ the cab company to come pick us up." 

Josh glared at her. "Oh, you're hilarious." 

"I know I am." She paused. "Look, I'm handling this situation, just go back to your room and pack. He'll be here in about a half-hour." 

"Donna, it's 6:30." 

"I know." 

"And our flight's at 10:30." 

"I know." 

"That's _four hours_ away." 

"This isn't you riding in the Presidential Motorcade to Andrews Air Force Base and hopping on Air Force One, Josh. There's traffic to deal with, lines to wait in, not to mention security." Donna sighed. "We're leaving in a half hour." 

"Donna?" 

"Yes?" 

"You're not writing this off as a campaign expense, right?" Donna shook her head. "'Cause, you know, that could be considered abuse of campaign funds." 

"I'm not writing it off, Josh." 

"Good." He paused. "I just saying, we're barely ahead of Ritchie in the polls and the last thing we need is a financial scandal." 

"I know." 

"So, you're not-" 

"Josh!" Donna snapped. "Everything is taken care of." 

"Really?" When she nodded, Josh replied, "Okay." 

"Go pack." 

"I will." 

"Good." Donna stared at Josh, who wasn't moving. "Well?" 

"I just had a thought." 

"Imagine that." Josh glared at Donna. "What, you're not going to share your thought with the rest of the class?" 

Josh extended his hand to her, palm up, and looked at her expectantly. 

"I don't understand," Donna stated cautiously. 

"Hand it over." 

"Hand what over?" 

"You know what I'm talking about." 

"Honestly, Josh, I don't." 

"I think you do." He shook his head once to emphasize his request. 

"What? What do you want?" 

"I want back what you stole from me." 

Shock registered in her eyes, but Donna was smiling. "You think I _stole_ from you?" 

"I do." 

"And you came to this conclusion, how?" 

"My powers of deductive reasoning?" Josh suggested. 

Donna's smile gave way to a grin. "And do those powers come with a cape and tights?" 

"Funny." 

"Because I'd pay money to see that." 

Josh hesitated for a second. "There are so many ways that statement could be deemed inappropriate. Namely-" Josh then stopped abruptly. "You know what? I'm not even going to continue that thought." 

"I didn't steal from you," Donna reminded Josh. 

"You could use the word 'borrow' and I'd still be missing an American Express card with my name on it." 

Again, Donna's face registered mild shock tempered by a smile. "An American Express card?" 

"That's right." Josh was completely serious. 

Donna crossed her arms against her chest. "You think I have your American Express card?" Josh took the hint, and withdrew his hand. 

"I think you do. I also think you used it to expense this whole airport excursion." 

"Just for the record, 'this whole airport excursion' could have been avoided if you would have just remembered-" Josh whined her name and she stopped. "In my own defense, can I ask a question? Why use yours when I've got my very own at my disposal?" 

"Revenge?" he suggested weakly. "Or maybe a grudge against my nearly perfect credit?" 

"That's it, it's your credit." 

Josh pounced on the statement. "So you're admitting it?" 

"Sarcasm, Josh," she amended. "It was sarcasm." 

"And a clever defense mechanism it is." 

"It would be, if I had something to defend." Donna sighed. "If you'll check your wallet, you'll see that your American Express card is where it always is." 

Josh eyed her skeptically, but reached for his wallet anyway. The card was, indeed, in its proper spot. "This proves nothing." 

"Oh, my God," Donna groaned. 

"All this proves is that you put it back when you were done." 

"I swear to God, Josh," Donna offered, "I did _not_ charge your American Express card $400 for tickets and cab fare." 

The price shocked Josh. "Really?" 

"Yes," Donna replied emphatically. "On my life." 

Josh smiled softly. "Okay." 

She let out a sigh and stalked towards the door. Donna paused when she heard Josh's voice. 

"You forked over $400, out of your own pocket?" He sounded impressed. 

Donna couldn't help the wicked grin on her face. "Not exactly." 

"'Not exactly?'" 

Now she was grinning. "I'll warn you now: don't try and fire me when you get the Visa bill." 

Donna disappeared into the hallway, leaving Josh standing alone in her makeshift bedroom. And then it hit him. 

"Donna!" 

* 

Donna was already seated and reading the in-flight magazine when Josh appeared in the aisle. 

"You were supposed to wait for me." 

Donna glanced up from the article on the duty-free shops at LAX. 

"I did wait." 

"For, what, five seconds?" 

"They called a final boarding call and I was not about to be left behind. Again." 

Josh didn't reply; only fell with a thud into his seat. The bag slung over his shoulder slammed into the seat in front of him. 

"Asshole," the man muttered loud enough for Josh to hear. 

Josh looked pointedly at Donna and stage-whispered. "I. Hate. Business. Class. Honestly, you couldn't book us in first class while you were off on your shopping spree?" Donna, still smiling, only shrugged in response. "Figures." 

"Think of it this way, at least you don't have CJ here to mock you." 

"Because, you know, you haven't been doing enough of it already." 

"I try my best," Donna beamed. 

Josh glanced at Donna and noticed. "Hey. Where'd you get that?" 

"The magazine?" 

"The sweatshirt," he corrected. "_My_ sweatshirt." 

"What, this?" Donna asked innocently. 

"You're wearing my Harvard sweatshirt." 

Donna smiled. "I might be, yes." 

"And seeing as how I remember packing it and this bag has never left my sight since we got here, I fail to see how it came into your possession." 

"There's a chance I may have taken it back at the house and slipped into my bag on the off-chance it was cold on the plane." 

"Great," Josh said, leaning back in his seat. "My assistant is a kleptomaniac." He heard Donna laughing softly. 

Josh watched the various people moving up and down the aisle. 

"You can't keep that thing on your lap, you know." 

Josh glanced at Donna, and then his luggage with a heavy-handed sigh. "I think I've lost all will to move." 

"Stressed?" Donna asked, amused. 

"Out of breath," he corrected. "I was on a payphone halfway across the terminal, because God forbid we get the gate near anything resembling convenience, and when I heard the final boarding call I just hung up and took off rather abruptly." He ran a hand through his hair, and absently muttered, "She's probably going to kill me." 

"Amy?" 

The name startled Josh. "Huh?" 

"On the phone, were you talking to Amy?" 

"What makes you think I was talking to her?" 

With a wry grin, Donna retorted, "I, too, was bestowed with great powers of deductive reasoning." 

"Excuse me? Sir?" 

Josh turned his head to see a blonde flight attendant smiling politely at him. "Yes?" 

"I'm sorry, sir, but all carry-on luggage belongs in either the overhead compartments or under your seat." 

Donna leaned over and whispered, "Told you so." 

* 

"I love Washington!" 

"Josh, keep your voice down." 

The co-pilot was standing at the door, saying goodbye to passengers as they filed off the plane. Politely, he thanked Josh as well, who seemed to interpret it as a personal thank-you. "No, thank _you_," Josh responded emphatically. 

"Don't mind him," Donna apologized to the co-pilot. 

"Don't stop now, Donnatella, we're home!" 

To the co-pilot, she added, "It's been a long few hours." 

Josh was already speeding up the ramp when Donna finally exited the plane. She shouted his name, and he stopped in his tracks. 

"Try to be happy," he chided her when Donna caught up to him. 

"I _am_ happy." 

"Right." 

They started walking again. 

"Pardon me for not kneeling to kiss the ground." 

Josh's face twisted up in disgust. "I would _never_ do something like that." 

"I'm surprised you didn't try to hug that guy." 

"He wouldn't have deserved it? Donna, he delivered us to salvation!" 

"He flew the plane, Josh, which, need I remind you, is his job." 

"Are you always this grumpy when you fly commercially?" 

"Seeing as how I have nothing resembling vacation time at my job, I wouldn't know." 

Josh stopped. "I gave you Christmas." 

"'Leave really late on the 24th and be back by early on the 26th.'" 

"Leo had his thing with Congress and-" 

Donna held up her hand. "Let's not get into this here, okay?" She turned and started walking again. 

When they were silent for a few feet, Donna spoke up. "I've got to find a payphone so I can call someone at the White House to come pick us up." 

"Actually," Josh sounded hopeful, "I took care of that already." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah," he sighed. 

"So, what, is CJ already here?" 

By now they were at the end of the ramp, in the doorway to the boarding gate, but Donna was looking at Josh. 

He hesitated before he spoke, but Donna had already turned her gaze to the crowd of people waiting. After a second, she found someone familiar, and she was about to open her mouth when she realized that familiar person was decidedly _not_ CJ. 

Fifty feet away, Amy waved curtly to announce her presence. 

Josh locked eyes with her, smiled, and then leaned close to Donna to whisper, "Does she look pissed to you?" 

Amy spoke as soon as they were within an earshot. "You could have called, J." 

"It's nice to see you, too, Amy." 

Amy decided to ignore Josh. 

"Hey, Donna. How was the flight?" 

"Good," Donna nodded, slightly uncomfortable. 

"That's wonderful." 

"Hey!" Josh spoke up. "I called you from the airport!" 

Amy glared at him. "Do you know how much sleep I could have gotten last night if I had known you weren't coming home?" 

"I was in a good mood ten seconds ago." Josh turned to Donna. "Wasn't I in a good mood, Donna?" She only stared at him, unwilling to be pulled into their conflict. 

"Are we going to stand here and argue, or can we go now?" 

"Whatever you want." 

Amy rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to Donna. "I'll take you home first, to spare you any further agony." 

"She's not going home," Josh interrupted. 

"She's not?" 

"I'm not?" 

"Nope. We have work to do, Donna." 

Donna was incredulous. "I drove with you to retrieve your debate notes, I schlepped with you in the rain, I fended off Republicans with you, I survived with you in a house full of deer heads and hooves holding rifles, and we've got _work to do_?" 

Josh shrugged. "Life's a bitch." 

"Among other things," Amy muttered, but only Donna caught it. 

"At least come back and help me sort through my mail." 

"Josh..." 

"I'm not taking either one of you back to the White House." 

"Please?" He was making his puppy-dog-face, completely ignoring Amy for the moment, and Donna hated to admit she was considering the option. 

"Sorting mail?" Amy was surprised. "You need help sorting your mail?" 

"It's...complicated," he offered. 

"I'm sure." 

"We're up until the wee hours of the morning sometimes," Josh joked. 

"So _that's_ what you've been doing." 

Josh glared at Amy, and she dropped the issue. 

"We're not going back there." 

"Yes, we are." 

"Do you want to drive?" 

"Donna, please tell Amy we have mail to sort." 

Instead, she had a thought. "How about I just go the bathroom and then I'll meet you two in the garage and we'll sort it out there?" Donna suggested. 

Both were silent. 

"Fine," Amy said curtly. 

"Okay," Josh agreed. 

Donna nodded affirmatively and turned in the direction of the bathroom. Yet she wasn't even ten feet from them when she heard Amy's voice again. 

"Josh, wasn't that _your_ sweatshirt?" 

THE END.  
(feedback is glorious) 


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